His Last Mission
by StoryGardener
Summary: Kirk has to broker a peace between two peoples, while dealing with the fact that he is dying and has lost Spock as a friend. Complete qua plot but being rewritten to novel length, to be republished when fully done. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

**His Last Mission**

1.

"Jim, it's time."

Still the Captain did not stir. McCoy gently put his hand on his friend's shoulder to rouse him from that deep sleep that nowadays only came from exhaustion, and sedatives.

Kirk opened his eyes and McCoy saw the sudden flare of panicked consciousness in those hazel eyes, on the flushed face. It was merely an unguarded moment. In a second the Captain had his expression under control again.

"Already?" he slurred.

McCoy cringed inwardly. Jim used to wake up instantly, fresh and alert. There was no longer any _sharpness_ to him, the Doctor thought with a pang of sadness, all too familiar nowadays.

"We have an hour," he said, presenting a lopsided smile. "Rough night?"

"That stuff you gave me works, but it's rough on the waking up," groaned Kirk, sitting up with some difficulty.

"I wish they'd just leave you alone," McCoy grumbled, unable to bite his tongue this morning.

But Kirk smiled.

"You know why we're here, Bones," he said, remaining sitting on the bed. "The Andarans don't trust the Kosians. The Kosians don't trust the Andarans. But the Andarans trust me. And the Kosians trust me. So-" He chose not to finish the sentence, concentrating instead on sliding off the bed and standing up.

McCoy moved to help him, but Kirk held out a forbidding hand.

"I can do it, Bones." The gentle reassurance was edged with pain.

McCoy, arrested in mid movement, scowled ferociously. "Starfleet _knows,_" hespat. "They shouldn't've-"

"-Quit it, Doctor." He was out of patience. "_This_ I can still do."

For a moment the two friends stared at one another. McCoy was chastised, but at least there was still that sharp, stubborn rejection of vulnerability in his Captain. He could see the steel resolve growing as Kirk groped towards to full consciousness. Yet his thought was, _how long? _He backed away from that thought - guilty, treacherous.

As if he had read it, Kirk broke into a small, wounded smile, his eyes warm with sympathy. McCoy's heart broke even more as he realized Kirk was taking pity on _him._

"Well," the doctor coughed. "I don't like it any more than you're going to like what I'm going to propose next."

"What is that, old friend," Kirk asked softly, that pitying smile still on his face.

"This," said the Doctor. He held out what looked like a flat, black pebble. "It's a sensor. _You_ are going to wear it and it's going to allow _me _to monitor your life signs."

He had spoken, he hoped, as if no contradiction was possible. To seal the deal, he held up the other part, a small box with a screen that he would carry with him at all times.

"What ever happened to privacy, Bones?" asked the Captain softly.

"_Jim_," McCoy broke down, pleading, but again Kirk held up his hand.

"I'll wear it," he sighed. "Leave it to you to perfect hovering. Now help me with the dress shirt, will you?"

He undid the two buttons at the front of his sleeping shirt with fingers that none but a doctor would notice were still weak with sleep.

McCoy stepped behind his Captain and gingerly slipped the shirt off the tense, broad shoulders. He winced as he saw again the scars covering his friend's bare torso.

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"Captain."

"Mr. Spock!" Kirk exclaimed as if the sight of his dour Second in Command took away all the worries in the world.

Spock, unperturbed, informed them that the Kosian party was about to beam up.

"Good! We'll have them tucked away in their quarters before the more volatile package arrives," Kirk quipped, stepping past Spock.

Spock threw a quick glance at the Doctor, who returned the briefest of nods before they followed their Captain on his procession through the sleek and busy corridors of the Enterprise. McCoy had given Kirk a stimulant and painkiller, and the pebble was tucked out of sight inside the collar of the Captain's green and gold-rimmed dress shirt. McCoy fingered the little box nestled in his pocket.

"Remind me again which one is which," he grumbled.

It was Spock who took up the challenge.

"The Andarans and the Kosians," he began, "originate from a common ancestor on Kos, the largest continent on their planet. Three million and four hundred thousand years ago, a large body of that population emigrated across the vast sea to the other continent, Andaras, there to evolve under very different circumstances. The cold and barren wasteland and unfriendly fauna of their new home gave them their physical strength and keen senses. They are thought to be as strong as Vulcans, though they lack the Vulcan serenity, being what you would call high-strung, and prone to violence. The relatively tame environment of Kos, on the other hand, allowed the Kosians to proceed on a more spiritual path. It was they, with their powered ships, who made contact with the Andarans and, more recently - and reluctantly, I gather - with the Federation."

"You'll know who is who when you see them, Bones," Kirk said, falling back in line with them now that the corridor wasn't so crowded and they could walk three abreast. "When I was part of the scouting team twelve years ago I came to appreciate the Kosians' refinement. The Andarans…" He trailed off with a wry smile.

"I take it they were hostile," McCoy prodded.

"They were out to kill us the moment we set foot on their side of the planet. It was only when we saved the life of one of theirs that they defrosted somewhat. A remarkable people, really, about whom very little is known, as very little is known about their counterparts. I believe our scouting team were the only outworlders to have spent time on their planet, on Andaras _or_ Kos, for that matter. They're very different, except in their isolationist tendencies. Both treated us with respect, but asked us not to contact them again. Until a month ago. This approach to the Federation is borne from nothing but desperation."

"And what do you make of the women of Kos?" asked McCoy, instantly bringing the desired smile to Kirk's lips.

"Ah, Kosian women, Bones! We never figured it out. All age groups of men are represented, but you see only girls and young women. A few very old women make up the Council of Elders, and they never appear in public. In appearanceat least, the Kosian society seems to have no women of middle age. And it's not as if they're hidden away somewhere. As far as I could tell, physically, the women go from youth to old age in a day."

"Fascinating," said Spock.

Kirk ignored him, quickening his already headlong pace. McCoy was about to say something, because Jim was overdoing it. He knew it to be a typical reaction against the pain, as if Jim was trying to outrun it, aided by the stimulant. But he was preempted.

"I suggest you slow down, Captain," said Spock, more softly than was his usual wont, blunting the edge of the request. Still, it was sharp enough.

_Oh no, here we _go, thought McCoy.

Kirk stopped in his tracks and turned to face the Vulcan with that cutting hostility that had grown in him over the last couple of months. McCoy had received more than his share of it, but whenever Spock was around he would draw it, without fail, like a magnet attracts metal. McCoy held his breath. As always, Spock did not flinch.

"Sir, we have a long day ahead of us," he explained with gentle logic.

To McCoy's relief, Kirk relented, with the briefest, most reluctant of nods, and continued on, less hurriedly this time.

Still, he added, "Only the two parties to welcome, Mr. Spock. And then the reception."

"I don't understand, Jim," McCoy jumped in. "Why start with a reception? If they hate each other so much."

"Ah, but they both insist on _procedure_, and I have made this reception procedure, so there. Also, I requested that certain more moderate members be included in their groups. These will approach one another and show their compatriots that it is possible to be friendly. That, at least, is the plan," he added vaguely.

The Transporter Room doors swished open and Kirk preceded them inside. The Ensign at the controls and the two security officers, all in dress uniform, jumped to attention.

"Ready, Captain," Ensign Dow announced.

"Ready, gentlemen?" Kirk asked no one in particular, and it escaped neither McCoy, nor Spock, that the couple of seconds he waited for an answer he used to gather himself. "Energize."


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Six columns of shimmering energy turned to matter and Kirk, despite his physical discomfort – a euphemism he had come to loathe – found himself smiling with anticipation. And there they were, the five Kosians, four men, and one young woman, beautiful people dressed in exquisite robes.

He could only glance at her before turning to the oldest of the men, who was stepping off the platform toward him.

"James Kirk," announced the man with a gracious bow, "may the Spirit be with you."

"And Probend Obk, may the Spirit be with _you_," Kirk responded, with a bow almost as fluid.

"I have long wondered, what it felt like to be transported," said the Probend, relinquishing his solemnity to a sudden, childlike smile. "I find the experience exhilarating!"

Kirk had known how deeply the Kosians would appreciate, and covet, a technology like the transporter. It appealed to them because it could free up more of their time to ponder its more metaphysical overtones . He imagined it had already sparked polite, if fierce, debate in the Kosian academies. This had been the intention behind his insistence that they not send the more familiar shuttlecraft to gather the delegates.

"The method is safe and as you see, expedient," Kirk said. "Within time, the Federation would be willing share the technology with you, if you so wish."

The Probend acknowledged the offer with pleasure, and stepped aside. Now the young woman gathered up some of her long, silken skirts in one hand. Unconcerned about the breach of protocol, Kirk took a step toward her to take her other hand and help her descend the steps. The touch of her small, slender hand sent a thrill down his spine.

"Thank you, Jim," she said, her smile as intense as the Captain's – it instantly softened the strong, regal beauty of her face. "May the Spirit be with you."

"And Isha," he whispered, "may the Spirit be with _you_."

How he wished to take both her hands in his, but there was not even time to say anything more, and he had to let go. Each of the others - two young men, one middle aged - performed the greeting, and they were all introduced to the First Officer and the SMO.

Then the Probend took the word again.

"I take it that we start negotiating tomorrow, Captain," he inquired with visible agitation.

Kirk felt for him. The Kosians were a serene people, and any emotion that was out of the ordinary for them was plain to see on their faces. The last century, and especially the last decade, during which their contact with the Andarans had escalated, must have been hard on their society.

But Kirk merely nodded once and waited for the rest.

"And that we must," the Probend hesitated, "_associate_ with the Andarans before that?"

"The welcome party, you mean?" Kirk smiled. "Yes. Standard procedure. A way for the Federation to establish the Enterprise as common ground, Probend. Friendly ground." Before the Probend could say anything more, he added, "The Ensign will show you to your guest quarters. I trust you will be comfortable. I will see you again at the reception."

Taking a last little bow, he held out his arm toward the door. The Probend and his party had no choice but to follow the lead. Isha cast him a smiling glance before she followed her group out of the room. Was he mistaken, or was there something painful there? The doors closed behind her.

0000000000000

"Whew," whistled McCoy. "She's a looker, the Probend's wife!"

Kirk turned to look at his Doctor, trying for a disapproving expression but failing miserably at it.

"You mean the Kosian Queen?" he said, unable to wipe that broad smile off his face.

"_Queen_?" McCoy queried. "But I thought the Probend is some sort of prime minister?"

"Which fact should inform even you, _Doctor_," Spock continued coolly, "that she is not his wife. She is the Queen, and the ruler of the Kosians is their elected King," Spock continued, "which _he_ is not. He _is_ merely the Probend, the minister."

McCoy's look of surprise was instantly replaced by a gratified smirk.

"Why, Mr. Spock," he beamed, "did I just hear you _contradict_ yourself? An 'elected King', what poppycock!"

"It will disappoint you, Doctor, that you misheard," stated the Vulcan. "In Kosian society, a man is first elected by the council of elders, which makes him the Probend. Only when the Probend then marries the Queen, does he become King. The Queen has no ruling power other than the fiat, or veto, as the case may be, over whether the Probend is to be her husband, and thus King. Much like in your Ancient Rome, I believe."

McCoy had exchanged his triumph for confusion. "You mean," he said, "that she is to marry this Probend?"

"No," Kirk said – to his own ear a bit too brusquely. "She is the _old_ Queen. Obk is to marry her daughter."

"But she-" McCoy stuttered, furrowing his brows, "-she's hardly _old_! No way can she have a nubile daughter!"

"You're right on one count, Bones," said Kirk. "Though she still – incredibly – looks like she's twenty, Queen Isha is seventy-two Earth years old. But she doesn't have a daughter. She and her husband, the deceased King, were childless. And so the Probend, and the Kingdom, are waiting."

"So she's going to have a daughter by _him_?" McCoy blurted out.

"No," Kirk said again, with a terseness that was this time fully apparent to everyone in the room. Checking his distaste for the turn of the conversation, he forced himself to explain as lightly as he could. "Then he would be the new Queen's father as well as her husband. The Kosians have clear prohibitions against incest."

"Ah, of course," said McCoy, chastened, and relieved, and still terribly confused, from which state he tried to rescue himself by adding, "_However_ that may be, she _is_ beautiful, Jim. And I take it that only _you_ are on a first name basis? As usual?"

Kirk's reply was forestalled by a whistling signal from the console.

"Captain," Ensign Dow piped up, "the Andaran party is standing by to beam up."

"Energize, Ensign," said Kirk, pulling his jacket down and taking a deep breath.

00000000000

Again the formless columns appeared, but these now settled into five bodies of a very different cast.

The five stood in dull, black body harnesses riveted with metal, creaking and clanging now, as the warriors moved their limbs to make sure they were still intact. The one in front, a giant of a man, laughed with joy and jumped off the platform to face Kirk.

Had his Captain not maintained that hard smile on his face, Spock would have moved to protect him. But the Captain stayed his ground against the Andaran, and so Spock held back.

"Kirk, we meet again," the General thundered. He stood a head taller than Kirk, and was looking down at him with a smile, or a sneer. Spock would have to gain experience with this species before knowing which was which.

"Far_-Ahn_!" Kirk barked back, with that mean smile, which hovered, curiously, between a scowl of derision and reluctant show of respect. "A pleasure to see you made it here in one piece!"

The General thundered with laughter. Then he abruptly stopped, took a step back, and saluted Kirk military style, with a blow of his right hand against his chest. Kirk repeated it, though he was considerably less hard on himself.

"My life is your life," the Andaran uttered, his eyes ablaze with a joy, and a challenge.

"And so my life is yours," responded Kirk, unflinching.

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. He resolved to read the Captain's old report of his first encounter with these Andarans.


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Several hours later Spock found his attention divided between the Andaran General, Far-_Ahn_, who was explaining to him the ritual of Ph-Kon, the increasingly pale Captain, who was listening to the Kosian Probend, Obk, at the far side of the room and, more and more, the Doctor, who, in yet another corner, was glowering nonstop at his black box. McCoy caught him looking and shot him a furious look.

Spock excused himself as soon as he saw an opportunity to do so politely and engaged an intercept course on the Doctor, who was making a bee line toward the Captain.

"Doctor-" Spock began, but McCoy continued on track. Spock had no choice but to follow.

"My apologies for interrupting, Probend," said the Doctor, "but the Captain is needed on the bridge."

"Nothing serious, I hope," said the Captain, seemingly put out. "Mr. Spock?"

Spock fought the impulse to reach out to take his Captain's arm. That small and simple motion of turning towards hi had seemed to drain Kirk of the last of his strength. But life, for a moment, flared up in those stubborn, hazel eyes, and again Spock refrained.

"Nothing serious, Captain," he said instead, failing to fully mask his dissatisfaction with the situation. "But it is an urgent matter that requires your immediate attention."

"Probend." Kirk's nod was almost imperceptible. The intense frown of concentration on his face was quite effectively passed off as concern for his ship.

The Probend readily nodded his consent, and Kirk turned and walked briskly out of the room, flanked by his CMO and First Officer.

As soon as they found themselves in the deserted corridor, the door closed behind them, the Captain uttered a moan and his knees buckled, surrendering him to their support. Spock sensed the heat on Jim's skin – four point five degrees Fahrenheit higher than normal – and the rock hard tension of his muscles underneath it, clenched in pain. His breath came quick and ragged. His chin was on his chest, his face drained of color.

"They mustn't see me like this," Jim groaned.

"This way," said Spock. He steered them around the corner –dragging Jim along - toward the nearest door, which he opened by a touch of the button next to it.

"This is Ensign Sah's cabin. He is on leave. I am certain he would not mind."

They hurried Jim inside, glad for the bunk so conveniently close in the tiny room. They helped him onto it and Spock had to hold him down as his body went into convulsions. McCoy had already opened his hip pouch and produced a hypospray. A hiss and Jim slowly relaxed.

"This'll put you to sleep for the next eight hours," the Doctor whispered, close to Jim's ear.

Kirk held the Doctor's eye as consciousness slowly seeped from his ashen face. Then his eyelids fluttered, and closed.

0000000

All evening Spock had noticed McCoy's trouble keeping his fury in check. Shaking now with that fury that Spock feared would consume the Doctor one of these days, McCoy pushed himself off against the bed and violently flung the hypospray to the floor.

"Doctor!" came the Vulcan's hushed warning.

"Don't you _Doctor_ me, Spock!" exploded the Doctor with a hoarse whisper. "He can't do this. Soon also this painkiller will be useless. Did you see him in there? If it wasn't for the monitor you'd never have known he was hurting. He's driving himself too hard, Spock. This-this _last mission is a suicide mission!_"

Spock stood, motionless, looking from the Doctor to Jim. His friend seemed so vulnerable, unconscious on the bed. Spock had felt this helplessness before his friend's suffering before, but the circumstances had been radically different. They had been full of urgency, when each small act counted and there was only fleeting thought of what would come next, and in the next moment there had always seemed room for hope of rescue and recovery. In this instance the decline was slow, relentless, and there was no action that he could take that would change things.

And the Captain had in any case, from the beginning, refused any help from Spock. He had turned away from him, had not let him hold his battered body or approach, via any means, the hurt in his mind.

Suddenly, as if he had made a long-debated decision, Spock went to his friend and pulled the blanket that was at the foot of the bed over him. The gesture for a moment took all of his strength as he had to stop at Jim's chin, had to stop himself from pulling it all the way, over Jim's head. Because that's what he felt like doing, that's what felt right.

_Oh, but to find closure…_

He looked up at the Doctor, who stood staring at him, in shock. McCoy was not stupid, and however intense his personal attachment in this case, he had not missed, ignored or mistaken the damage to Jim and Spock's friendship.

"The Captain-" Spock began, but his voice broke. He was paralyzed by the depth, the _kick,_ of this helplessness so overtly reflected back at him by the Doctor's troubled face.

Mercifully, McCoy too remained silent. Staring at each other over the unconscious body of their friend, they let the force of their realizations wear off.

"I agree with your assessment, Doctor," Spock resumed, back in control of himself. He turned and retrieved the hypospray from the carpeted ground. He passed it, over the Captain, to the Doctor. McCoy sheepishly took it from him.

"Jim is my friend as well, Doctor," Spock continued, "and I grieve for him too. But there is something logical in his actions that I admire, and so must you. This is what he can still do, and what he has always done, and we must allow him to do it one last time."

McCoy remained mute, the hypospray still in his hand.

"The negotiations will be over in a few days, Doctor. Do you think he can handle a few days?" Spock asked, finding he could not bear the Doctor's silence.

The words seemed to jolt the Doctor.

"_A few days_," McCoy repeated, emphasizing each and every cruel word. "Are you asking my _professional _opinion, Officer Spock? Well here you have it. He can. And he_ can't_. Think of it, Spock! _A few days_…"

He fell helplessly silent.

"I must return to the reception," said Spock after a few seconds.

"Yes. I'll stay here. There's even a comfy couch," McCoy lied, pointing to the bench that was the cabin's only other large piece of furniture.

Spock nodded, turned on his heel, and left the room. As he rounded the corner, trying to collect his thoughts, he nearly collided with the Kosian Queen.

"Your Highness, I apologize for-" he stammered, stepping back.

The Queen silenced him with a hard motion of her hand.

"Where is he?" she demanded.

Spock was taken aback and could did not immediately reply. She swept past him – the _swish_ of her silk robes for a moment enveloped him - and rounded the corner. Laying her hand on Ensign Sah's door, she seemed to listen, and Spock found himself listening too, though he heard not a thing beyond the hum of the ship.

"He's in here," she stated. "Let me in."

Spock considered, but for a second, then pressed the button. He stood aside to let her pass.

0000000

McCoy looked up from taking the Captain's readings and deliberating whether he should administer another dose of sedative and his jaw nearly dropped.

"Shush," came her whispered order.

Behind her Spock's expression was unfathomable. The Vulcan did not enter. He let the door close upon him.

McCoy gazed at the Queen. She was of unsurpassed beauty, but of an imperial kind: ceremonial, cold. She was still so young – _looked_ so young, McCoy corrected himself. But her bearing and expression, bred into her from a very young age, no doubt, and practiced, day after day after day, throughout her long, long life, made it clear that she knew who and what she was, and that there would be no compromise toward her lessers.

Yet he had glimpsed another side of her, when she had greeted Jim in the transporter room, with that smile, and earlier in the evening, when Jim had welcomed her at the reception. What a contrast!

And it was a transformation that he saw now, as in the few steps which it took her to reach Jim, the aloofness melted into great compassion.

It was all for Jim.

The Doctor looked down at his friend. The fever was now hot on his face, and there was that flutter in the closed eyelids and on the lips that betrayed the heightened activity of a brain processing pain. His tricorder was bleeping out the rapid decline in Jim's condition. He would have to move him to sickbay-but the Queen softly took Jim's hand in both her hands, and the flutter ceased. The tricorder fell silent.

"He is in great pain," she stated. "Can't you give him something?"

McCoy's anger almost rekindled, but then he saw that her question was posed in kindness, not in accusation. He felt inordinately relieved that she should include him in her love – yes, surely that's what it was, _love_ – for the Captain.

"What I give him helps only a little anymore," he whispered, sharing with her the full extent of his desperation. "He can't feel it, consciously, now, but he is always in pain."

He could see her looking at him, but past his face, past his eyes, deep into him, looking, looking, for Jim.

"Tell me how this happened," she asked softly.

Had she put it as a command, McCoy could not have hesitated. But, still included in her good will, he was free to resist, and he did.

"I don't think Jim would like me to," he apologized, and looked away.

"Has he told you about me?" she asked. There was amusement in her question now.

"Well, yes, Your Highness. A little."

"Then you know that I won't let this interfere with our common mission."

"Ah, but I know he _would_ mind me shattering your idea of Captain James T. Kirk. He wants to avoid any sign of weakness on his part."

"I see," she said with that amused smile. "You need no longer worry about _that_, do you?"

McCoy had to admit it with a little shrug.

"Doctor," she gently berated him, "any idea of the great James T. Kirk was shattered the moment I materialized in your Transporter Room. I spent decades taking care of an ailing husband. I can spot the signs better than that little box of yours - yes, I've seen your obsession with it. Now, tell me, dear man, what happened."

_Jim will just have to forgive me,_ thought McCoy.

"Our last mission was to Gemo XII, two months ago," he began. "It wasn't an errand of friendship. Jim was ambushed. The torturers of Gemo XII-the damage they inflict no doctor in the Federation can repair. I nearly lost him a couple of times, and it took him until recently to make it this far, and it's - it's as far as he'll go. Starfleet put the Enterprise on easy assignments, but they know – we all know – that he won't be our Captain for long. This is to be his last mission. Then he'll retire. And I with him! Until-until the end."

"He is dying," she stated. This statement of fact did not seem to faze her. McCoy had merely confirmed what she already knew, which was everything.

"Yes," breathed McCoy. It was the first time he had admitted it so freely to anyone else. Starfleet had had to drag it out of him. "Soon the pain killers will no longer work. For all his fighting, he cannot outrun it."

As if he was hearing this conversation – _and he might well be_, McCoy cursed inwardly – Kirk moaned.

Immediately the Queen of the Kosians put a small, delicate hand on his forehead, and again he calmed down.

McCoy raised a professional eyebrow.

"How do you do that?" he asked.

"Ah," the Queen smiled, "it's merely a woman's touch."

_Not any woman's touch_, McCoy thought, but he refrained from saying it out loud.

"You are exhausted yourself, Doctor," she now said, her gaze fixed upon him. "Do not deny it. I could sense your friend, Mr. Spock's, concern for both of you. I will stay with Jim. Come when it is time for him to wake up. He will not know that I was here."

It was an order but McCoy was no longer intimidated by her.

"I couldn't ask that of you," he countered. "You need to be fresh for the negotiations tomorrow."

Her knowing smile broadened.

"Kosian women don't sleep. Did you know that about us, Doctor? We rest even less than your Vulcan officer. So it only makes sense for me to stay with him."

For the first time, McCoy saw some hesitation.

"No," she whispered, relaxing that sternness of hers to appeal to him. "It is my _duty_ to stay with him, as much as it has been yours. You know how it weighs, Doctor, and you know how it needs to be fulfilled."

McCoy stood, entranced_. _Yes, he knew that need. He nodded, then moved tactfully to the door. There he turned and asked, "Do you think the Andarans could see?"

"No," she rewarded him with keen pleasure. "He's good. Very good."

McCoy took in the scene for one more second – Jim, peacefully asleep, the beautiful Queen at his bedside, again holding his hand. He left. As he walked to his own quarters he marveled at the screen on his little black box. Vital signs, all normal. For the first time in two months, Jim was peaceful in his asleep.

There came not even the slightest bleep of alarm throughout the night, and he slept well himself. When he returned in the morning, the Queen rose from the side of Jim's bed, merely nodded, and left. His patient was still sound asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

4.

The Conference Room had been arranged to inspire solemnity and, above all, serenity. It was dimly lit, spare but comfortable. The large oval slab, bare but for a view screen at each place, merely hinted at a head of the table. This is where the Captain now sat, the Doctor on his knee beside him.

"You _requested_ this assignment, didn't you?" McCoy reminded him with gentle sadism.

Kirk scoffed weakly, hardly moving, while the Doctor fiddled with that sensor near his neck. The collar on the dress uniform he had worn yesterday had made its concealment easy, but neither his usual gold command shirt nor the black undershirt had a collar. Kirk smiled a little when McCoy swore under his breath.

He was still amazed at his morning. Usually, upon waking, he could not, with his mind, remember any pain, but his body would always remind him of it. Waking up was a wincing affair, with a tenseness in the muscles and even a frown that he had to deliberately erase from between his eyes before venturing out into the corridors.

But not this morning. It had been like how he remembered it was, before Gemo XII. And it was like a beautiful but terribly inconsiderate gift. The onset of a new wave of pain was proving to be almost unbearable. Moreover, the new painkiller that the Doctor had given him was roiling through his veins in a wave of nausea.

Kirk jumped a little when out of the blue McCoy administered another jab.

"To help with that," the Doctor explained gruffly.

McCoy stood.

"Are you sure you're ready for this, Captain?"

"Did you see Kirian and Ko-Pah at the reception, Bones?" was Kirk's answer. "The two actually got along. _They'_ll do the talking. The Probend and the General will sit and listen. And I'll sit and listen."

"Evasive maneuvers, Captain," the Doctor huffed.

"And there is always the Queen," Kirk added, ignored his Doctor. "She started this whole process of reconciliation. She will be at my side."

To Kirk's surprise the Doctor seemed satisfied with this and without a further murmur took his leave – though not entirely, of course, given the presence of the sensor on his body.

The doors did not have the chance to close behind the Doctor. In filed Far-_Ahn_, followed by the Probend Obk, then Isha, then the Andaran officers and lastly the rest of the Kosian entourage. And James T. Kirk rose from his seat, a confident smile on his somewhat pale face, all pain, all nausea, if not forgotten, at least ignored.

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The meeting adjourned eight hours later. The Captain said a hopeful goodbye to each council member as he left the room. Then he stumbled back to the head of the table and lowered himself gingerly into his chair.

Allowing himself a deep sigh, he reflected that it had gone better than he had hoped. He had found a way of keeping the volatile Andarans contented, and in check. He had managed to keep his own preference for the Kosians at bay, at least by reminding himself that he should not antagonize the Andarans by showing that preference. There was not yet the openness, the respect for the other even in his otherness, that a diplomat seeks to engender. But he had laid the foundation for that by rekindling their shared respect for him, their go-between.

He had not, of course, sat and listened. Most of the time he had been the one talking, sharing his experience of precedents and examples, using his knowledge of both their cultures to coax, calm, and prod. He knew the Kosians appreciated the mellowness of his voice, the voice of reason, while the Andarans reveled in the passion of his body, a flurry of his hand, a sudden rising from his chair.

Now his voice was hoarse in a sore throat, his whole body ached. The pain that had been dulled under McCoy's barrage of chemicals was resurrecting, about to claim all of his attention. Yet he was amazed that he was still standing, that he hadn't collapsed halfway through the proceedings.

_I made it._

"You look tired," Isha said.

Startled, he spun around in his chair and found her standing in the corner of the room, by the large window. In her dark robes and in the subdued lighting she had escaped his notice.

"Aren't you?" he asked in return, resisting the impulse to rise. She did not answer. Behind her the stars looked on. "It has been a long, intense day," he added.

Startling him again, Isha rushed at him, went down on her knees before him, and grasped his hands.

"I know what has happened to you," she whispered.

It was more the desperation, the pity in her voice than the revelation itself that angered him. He pulled his hands away. Had he been able to, he would have stood up and walked away from her.

"Who told you?" he blurted out. "McCoy! If I get that-"

"-Everyoneon this ship told me," she gently countered.

"_Everyone_ is under express orders to-"

"-Not _in words_, Captain," she silenced him, and took his hands again, harder, almost too hard. "Just by the look in their eyes, when you pass by. The women, especially. Your engineer, Mr. Scott, his grief is palpable. But the doctor, yes, though to his credit he tried to resist me. Even Mister Spock…"

"_Spock_," Kirk sighed, biting down on his bitterness. He felt like putting his head down on the table and going to sleep. Then he realized that the pain that had stood at the gates of his tolerance a few minutes ago had backed off, receded.

Isha was regarding him with a frown between her blue, large eyes. He was afraid of what was coming, but before she could speak a whistling sound signaled that someone wanted to enter. He was relieved and sad at once, more so the latter when Isha released his hands. Swiftly she rose and stepped away from him.

Kirk heaved another sigh. "Come," he said.

Spock appeared in the doorway.

"Captain, I-Your Highness, excuse me, I'll go-"

"No, Mister Spock," Isha said. "He is all yours."

She exited the room without a further glance at the Captain.

00000000

"I apologize for the intrusion, Captain."

Kirk did not look well. His hands, fingers interlaced, on the tabletop were clenched, the knuckles white. Thin wrists, rounded shoulders. Pale face, dark circles under the eyes. He was looking at Spock but his eyes weren't focusing. He was within, feeling something. He bit his lip, swallowed something back. Spock thought he might throw up, and was glad he had informed the Doctor that the conference had adjourned, and was anxious for him to join them.

"No, that's alright," the Captain said with a softness that, the Vulcan felt, stemmed more from fatigue than gentleness. "What is it, Spock?"

"Captain, the situation on the planet is escalating. Our sensors are picking up skirmishes in the cities involving firearms and even small explosives. The media are reporting these as acts of terrorism. Even the Kosian politicians are turning increasingly belligerent."

"They will go to war if I fail," Jim said in a small voice.

"I fear it too, Captain," said Spock simply. "Through espionage and research the Andarans have reached the Kosian level of technology. They are very close to developing weapons more destructive than what the Kosians have had in stock for decades. An arms race between these two nations will be a short one."

"But it went _well_ today-Spock," Jim pleaded. "But I need more time-and I am-so, so tired."

The Captain closed his eyes and lowered his head to rest his forehead on his hands.

Spock stood rooted to his spot, not knowing what to do, yet knowing what _not_ to do, _not_ to step closer, to offer comfort. But it took all of five seconds. Then Kirk realized what he was doing. His head jerked up and he sat, ramrod straight, frowning at his First Officer.

"Well, don't just stand there, Spock!" he barked. His eyes were livid with anger, and self-loathing.

It was just at that moment that McCoy came in.

Spock almost pushed the Doctor back out of the room, so poised was he to hear it. To hear Jim _say it, _what grieved him so.

But the Captain was rising from his seat.

"I'll be in my quarters, Doctor, writing up my report. I'll _send_ it to the bridge."

He walked out, ignoring both of them.

0000000000

"What is it between you and Jim?" McCoy asked softly.

Now he couldn't believe he had never asked the Vulcan straight out. Or even Jim. Had he been so wrapped up in his own grief? Obviously, it paled against the problems Jim and Spock were having.

"I have reason to believe," Spock began in that maddening neutral voice of his, "that the Captain blames me for the failure of the mission on Gemo XII and for the predicament it put him in."

This answer now totally took McCoy by surprise. For a moment he didn't know whether to laugh or get mad. The latter prevailed.

"Why you pointy-eared _idiot_!" he yelled, but his tirade was stopped short by Spock's hand.

"I remind you, Doctor, of the Captain's first words upon being returned to us."

McCoy shuddered, remembering the shaking mess of cut-up flesh and broken bones on the transporter pad, in shock but, incredibly, still conscious, spitting blood, and teeth, and those words:

"What kept you , Spock?"

McCoy had not had the chance to think anything of it, as a second later Jim had gone into his first cardiac arrest.

_What-kept-you-Spock._

Indeed those had been his very own words to the Vulcan as they scanned the facility on Gemo XII where the Captain was being held.

"What is keeping you, Spock! Well, what are you waiting for! Don't just _stand_ there, Spock!"

"Spock-I-" He swallowed hard, and could not quite get the words out of his mouth.

"I suggest, Doctor," Spock said coolly, "that you check up on the Captain in his quarters. He did not look well and will be in need of your assistance."

"I'll do that," said McCoy feebly to Spock's receding back.


	5. Chapter 5

5.

This is where he had always come to be alone, a section off Engineering were no one had any business to be. He hadn't been here in months now. There was a small port hole upon the stars and underneath it a soft bench. One day, about a year into their mission, Kirk had found it installed there, a present, he suspected, from Chief Engineer Scott.

New drugs were keeping him together again. He knew the Doctor was slamming through his carefully hoarded stash of chemicals. He was, as the Doctor put it, burning the candle at both ends. He could feel the flame now, blazing through his veins, hunting pain, burning oxygen.

The question arose again, _how did this happen?_ How, to use the Doctor's words, had he been reduced to a sputtering candle? This is not how he had thought to go. But he pushed the question from his mind, knowing it was without a constructive answer.

"Jim? Jim? Are you here?"

He rose from the bench. It was Isha!

"I'm over here!"

He looked around the bulkhead and there she was. He just caught Scotty making a hasty exit.

"It seems my crew is keen on giving me away," he said, smiling.

"On the contrary, Captain, they want to keep you," said Isha, unsmiling, serious.

Kirk stiffened a bit.

_I'm in for it now_.

Isha walked around him to sit down on the bench.

"Is this the famous Captain's hang out?" she asked.

"Well," he said, still smiling, "it's not supposed to be famous, but secret."

He sat down beside her. Their knees touched.

"You can see your planet, over there," he said, nodding behind him. Isha turned and rose on a knee to look at the sight behind his back. She put her hand on his shoulder as she gazed and her small face was very close to his. He drank up her image, her smell, her touch and weight on his shoulder.

_The most beautiful of women… Not for you, Jim Kirk._

Otherwise not moving she slowly turned to face him, so close their noses nearly touched. Her eyes were an intense blue, and so deep into him that it was like he was looking at himself. It was so perplexing, all he could do was stare back and loose himself in the infinite image of himself. How could he break this spell, get back to _her_…

_But for a kiss._

He only had to tilt his chin, just so, and his lips touched her lips.

But she pulled away.

She sat back down again, her back to the stars, looking away. His heartbeat slowed, a disappointment, a sadness.

_Not for you, Jim Kirk._

"Jim?" she said, with a caution that was unlike her. "You have to tell me now. What happened between you and Mister Spock?"

There it was, no less than he deserved.

"What do you mean?"

No, that wasn't going to work. He immediately changed tack, turning up the old Kirk charm - a sweeter, somewhat mischievous smile, a softer voice.

"Let's not talk about it, Isha, _Isha—_" he pleade, cradling her small hand very lightly in his.

_Oh, to go back to ten seconds ago!_

"No, Jim. No." She grabbed his hand, squeezing it hard. "I sense such _great_ friendship between you, yet you treat him like your worst enemy."

That's it. He had had it. What cruel sport was this? He was going to berate her, but something totally different came out.

"We don't _fit_ anymore!" he blurted out. "It's me, my fault. But _he.._. I can't understand why he still respectsme! Why he continues to stay here, on the Enterprise. Why he continues to request that I remain the Captain."

"He is your friend," she said.

"But on the Enterprise," he said irritably, "he is foremost the second in command. He knows better. Same with the Doctor. 'Unfit for duty'! It's all he has to say. Then we'd be-we'd be _free_ of this disaster, this charade that we never should have begun."

Isha said nothing for a while, allowing him to take it all in. Looking into her eyes was again like looking into his own, so he looked away, burning a hole in the bulkhead instead.

"If you had stepped down as Captain of the Enterprise," she said softly, "would you have given up?"

He said nothing.

"And if so," she continued, "would you have been able to help us come to peace?"

She let him be silent. "I think not," she whispered. "It is thanks to Spock that you are still the Captain of the Enterprise, that we have you, that we have hope. Why do you hurt him so, hurt yourself so?"

"I won't let him see me fail," he said fiercely. "I have failed him already. He is-the better man. How can I bring him down? We all know _he _should be the Captain now. Why doesn't he relieve me of duty? Why is he so _weak_? I cannot stomach his weakness, he who used to be strong, who used to be my strength! If he really is this weak, he doesn't deserve that chair!"

He stopped, too confused to continue.

Isha waited patiently.

"It's not-" he tried. His eyes roved the blank wall, the blank floor, his boots on the blank floor, looking for a finger hold. He was falling. "It's not _fair_," he whispered, barely finishing the word. He brought his fist to his mouth, pressing hard to hold back a cry.

00000000

Isha put her hand on his shoulder. She had hesitated to push him, because was scared. Jim Kirk was a still a strong man, stronger even than ever before, but now with a strength that worked only against him. Of course, she thought, how else would he have survived? How else would he still be standing? In a way his friend, Spock, was still his greatest supporter. By pushing Spock away, Jim was pushing himself off the ground, the absolute rock bottom of his life.

But he was falling now. She knew it was necessary, but she was afraid of the outcome, and unsure of the timing. She had her own agenda, her duty toward her own world.

And so she didn't know what she felt when he pulled himself together with a deep breath and a hardening of the eyes. She admired him, that unreasonable willfulness of his that she had seen in him, ten years ago when he had stood his ground against Far-_Ahn_ and had, against all odds, prevailed. But it stung her all the more, because it was useless, mere inflexibility in the face of the inevitable, and for the first time in her life she accepted defeat - the ultimate defeat of another, of this beautiful, stubborn man.

"Why are you here, Isha?"

His question took her by surprise.

_My turn, now_.

"I am here-to seal a deal."

She could see Kirk processing her words and slowly realizing that she was not speaking of the peace negotiations. A glimmer of suspicion and misgiving in his eye, he nonetheless waited for her to explain.

"I am here to-to conceive an Andaran daughter."

He stared at her in horror.

"Don't worry, Kosians and Andarans are physiologically compatible," she joked, and instantly looked away from him in disgust. "I'm sorry," she gasped.

_How quickly he turned the tables!_

"With whom?" he asked hoarsely. Then he knew. "Kiran!"

"Yes. Kiran. It would make our world, our race_,_ one again."

"Is this-Do you _want_ this?" he asked.

"The Council of Elders has spoken with wisdom."

"I don't believe it! You will sacrifice yourself!"

"Yes. But willingly, Jim. It is the only way out for our world. We must come together, literally, in a common Queen. These negotiations are to make that possible."

"To make the bed," he whispered, oblivious to the horror of his statement. "You kept that from me! I will not be part of this!"

"I kept it from you, yes, from you, _Jim, _for good reasons," Isha countered, with an anger all her own. "I know how you feel. I know how _I_ feel!"

They stared at each other, the compounded horror of all their revelations like a wall between them.

"How can this be?" Jim whispered in desperation. "How did we get to be so trapped, so without hope and without help? And each alone?"

She suddenly knew the answer, and she pronounced it with great conviction.

"It was not of our own doing. So we must forgive ourselves."


	6. Chapter 6

6.

Chekhov sat to attention at his console.

"Mr. Spock! Sensors are registering a big explosion on the planet!"

Spock sprang from the Captain's chair to look through the Science Station's viewfinder. He returned to the chair and pressed a button on the armrest.

"Captain. This is the Bridge."

"Yes, Mr. Spock?" came the Captain's voice over the intercom. He did not sound pleased at the interruption.

"There has just been an explosion, Captain, on Andaras. A major explosion in the main city."

000000000000

Far-_Ahn_ leapt to his feet, followed instantly by the Probend. The two men faced off across the table.

"You!"

"Don't you dare accuse us!"

"_Gentlemen_!" Kirk interrupted, relying wholly on the authority of his voice, because he found he had not the strength to get up in turn. In the corner of his eye he saw Spock enter the room. "We don't know the nature of this explosion. It could be of natural causes-"

"Terrorism!" barked Far-_ahn._

"-Or your own rebels!" Sirus, the Kosian youth, fired off.

The Probend held up a hand to shut him up, but he did not break his fierce eye contact with the Andaran General. The room swelled with the silence that followed. Kirk knew he would lose control over the situation any second now, if he delayed, but he felt so very, very tired. He glanced at Isha and then across the table at his Andaran rival, Kiran. They were the only ones on either side of him who were projecting not anger, but a stricken sadness. And he felt for them.

"Mister Spock," he asked, and all eyes turned to the Vulcan. "Do you have more information?"

"The explosion was not caused naturally, Captain. The Andaran media are reporting many thousands of casualties."

"Captain," said Far-_Ahn, _"I have to go to right away."

"I too must go back to my city, Captain," said Obk. "No doubt we too are in a state of emergency."

"Of course," said Kirk, glad at least that the two had disengaged their personal confrontation, for now. "We will beam both of you to where you wish to go. But may I respectfully make two suggestions."

The General and the Probend looked at him. They were both in shock, of course, but Kirk also guessed that the fact that they were not literally at each other's throats at this very moment was a testimony to how far they had come in the negotiations. Kirk cursed inwardly, to see it all crumble in the matter of seconds. But he might still rescue the mission, that part of it at least that was up to him.

"I ask that you leave your diplomatic party here, and that, General Far_-Ahn, _you take Mr. Spock along. He can help you with the investigation and serve as a liaison with the Federation if you wish our assistance. And in the interest of a diplomatic solution, he can observe your inquiries and the results. I assure both parties here that he is entirely impartial."

Kirk knew it was a gamble. Far-_Ahn_, who had expressed his admiration for the strength of the Vulcan, would no doubt appreciate Spock's help, but was he confident enough to accept the First Officer as an observer? Had the Andaran reached the point where he could even contemplate further diplomacy?

Far_-Ahn_ and Obk both gazed at Spock, who stood, hands clasped behind his back, awaiting their decision.

"I agree," Far_-Ahn_ finally said, "on both accounts." That was all. He shot his men a forbidding look that seemed to be clear to them, and blustered out of the room. Kirk gave Spock a brief nod, and without further acknowledgement the Vulcan turned and followed the General.

_Be careful, Spock_.

Kirk addressed Obk. "I will escort you to the transporter room, Probend. But I _suggest_," he hurried, before those remaining at the table erupted in argument, "that both parties refrain from communicating with one another while the cause of this explosion is being determined. Please retire to your quarters."

They filed out, Kirk and the Probend in the rear.

000000000

McCoy attached himself as soon as the Kosian General and the Captain left the room. He had a basic understanding of what had just happened, but he was not so foolish as to credit the calamity for the Captain's pallor.

"Do you have any idea who may be behind this, Probend?" Kirk was asking.

"I fear, Captain, that there are many in both our worlds who resist an entente."

McCoy was surprised to see Jim actually hang his head. The Probend had not missed the gesture either.

"I am deeply honored, Captain Kirk," said Obk, "and saddened that our plight affects you so!"

"Your plight, Probend, and the words you used just now, 'our worlds.' Just an hour ago you _and_ General Far-_Ahn _spoke of 'our world,' one world shared by both Kosians and Andarans."

The Probend nodded thoughtfully. "I wish it were still so, Captain, but I am afraid that the burden is not upon _me_."

Kirk seemed to bristle at that statement.

"It may still be, Probend Obk," he responded rather too sternly to McCoy's ear, "if this explosion was of Kosian doing," he added with a quiet authority.

The Probend was so obviously taken back by the suggestion that McCoy feared for the man's goodwill toward the Captain and his mission.

"Yes," Obk said after a second, "you are right. There is that possibility."

"I am glad we understand each other, Probend," said Kirk.

They entered the transporter room.

"Have Mr. Spock and General Far-Ahn left, Ensign Dow?"

"They did, Sir, just a minute ago."

"I hope we may settle this yet, Probend," said Kirk to Obk.

"And so do I," the Probend said sincerely. He made his graceful little bow and stepped onto the platform.

"Energize," Kirk ordered.


	7. Chapter 7

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I apologize for yet another shortish chapter, but promise the next one will be longer.  
**

7. **  
**

As soon as the transport was complete the Captain turned to Dow.

"Please leave us now, Ensign."

To his credit, Dow didn't hesitate. The doors had barely shut upon him when Kirk's proud shoulders went slack. He stifled a moan and swayed.

"Dammit, Jim," the Doctor cursed as he rushed forward and grabbed Kirk by the shoulders. Together they staggered to the platform, where they collapsed to sitting. Kirk put his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands. McCoy opened his medkit.

"I'm going to throw up," Kirk groaned into his hands.

"Well what do you expect?" grumbled McCoy. "You're chock-full of chemicals against the pain, against the nausea, against exhaustion. Ah, what the heck, this'll at least get you to sick bay."

The hypospray hissed against Kirk's neck.

Kirk lifted his face out of his hands.

"I can't go to sick bay," he protested weakly.

His hazel eyes were unfocused, half shut. His face was quickly becoming flushed and beads of sweat were popping out on his forehead. He looked like a feverish child fighting sleep.

Jim had always been quick to fever, in his case usually the sign of a strong immune system. But these chemical fevers, as McCoy called them, came on too quickly, too easily. They did nothing to combat the constant hearths of bacterial infection that were the unremitting legacy of Jim's treatment at the hands of the Gemosians.

_And he can't go to Sickbay, he says!_

The Doctor slammed down on the sympathy.

"A routine checkup, Captain," he said sternly, standing up.

The drug kicked in. Kirk's eyes focused, and he found the strength to pull himself up by the Doctor's outstretched hand.

"Wow, I could use some of that stuff when the negotiations resume," he mumbled.

"Don't dream about it," growled McCoy, his sense of humor not engaged. This particular potion was his last resort.

_I just used our last resort_.

He was glad Sick Bay was so close to the transporter room, because he knew they had precious little time.

000000000000

"Nurse," he called as they burst into Sickbay. A quick glance revealed there were no other patients or visitors present. Kirk had seen it too, and instantly slumped too much against the Doctor's side. "Nurse!"

Chapel came running from the other room. They helped Kirk onto the nearest biobed. Then the seizure started.

"O _God_," gasped Kirk, locking himself into fetal position. Racked by convulsion, he also began to wheeze, then choke.

"Doctor, he's going into anaphylactic shock!"

McCoy grimaced. _So much for the last resort_. The sudden livid red was already draining out of Jim's face. His lips were turning blue. He lost consciousness.

McCoy called out the drugs and administered the hypos Chapel handed him. They got Kirk breathing again, but soon found themselves in an uphill battle against a cascade of complications. The Captain was in no condition to weather one complication, let alone this rejection of one chemical after another. McCoy cursed as very soon Kirk's condition tipped over into septicemia, the systematic poisoning of his life systems by the bacteria that had been held, precariously, in check. As McCoy introduced more and more powerful antibiotics, the destroyed bacteria released more endotoxins into the Captain's bloodstream, adding to the threat of septic shock.

"_Run_, Christine, to the Kosian guest quarters on Deck Five. Ask for the Queen. Tell her the Captain-no, the _Doctor_ is in need. Hurry!"

000000000000

If Nurse Chapel felt any trepidation as she approached the guest quarters (she did – the Captain had briefed the crew not to approach the delegates at the risk of a breach of protocol), she didn't show it. She pressed the small button next to the door and told the young Kosian who answered who she was and that she had a message for the Queen from the Doctor. Within five seconds a young woman, stunningly but coldly beautiful, appeared in the doorway.

"Your Highness," Chapel began, "the Doctor-"

"Show me the way," said the Queen, with a calm urgency that made Chapel wonder if the Doctor had called ahead.

00000000000000

_I'm losing him. Again._

McCoy was in tears as he hovered over Kirk's motionless body. His eyes traveled from the panel above the bed to his patient's face, chalk white, too still. He was helpless. The pulse, barely noticeable, was fading rapidly, and there was not a drug in his arsenal that would make it any different. There was nothing he could do, and he knew his Captain was too weak to do any fighting.

Through a film of tears he had the vision of a young woman who moved like a wisp of smoke to his friend's bedside.

"_Please_," McCoy begged of the vision.

The Queen put her hand on Jim's forehead, sending a jolt through the indicators on the biobed panel. McCoy stared, and Chapel gasped. They stood riveted.

"He is stabilizing," the Doctor rasped.

He stared in awe at the Queen. She stood next to Jim, so rapt, so commanding, she was almost terrible in her power.

Then he checked the indicators again. They were centering, evening out. Life system upon life system was being pulled back from the brink of ruin. Then the Queen relaxed a little, allowing a small sign of relief on her face, and so confirming McCoy's understanding of how close Jim had come.

Chapel snapped out of it first. She brought a chair for the Queen, who sat down, not breaking her contact with the patient's forehead, not taking her eyes off Jim. McCoy sucked in a quivering, wet breath and allowed himself to sit as well. Chapel handed him a tissue and he wiped his face.

00000000000

"What you do-" he said to her when she took back her hand and for the first time in an hour looked away from Jim. "What _is _it that you do?"

"It's not permanent, Doctor," she responded, reading his mind. "I cannot _cure_ him. The effect is more one of suspension. The pain, the crisis is suspended, for now. He does not get much better. He does not get worse."

"Is that how your husband lived so long with his illness?"

"Yes."

"Do all Kosian women have this gift?"

"We do, but we are not doctors. That is, we can bequeath our gift only to those we love."

"Love?"

"Yes, Doctor, with all our hearts. Our parents, our mates, our children. And Jim Kirk."

She broke into a smile that was too complicated for McCoy to decode but, _boy_, was he grateful for it!

"We owe you his life," he said solemnly.

"As I owe him mine," she responded, taking him by surprise.

"What happened between you and Jim?" he asked.

"I am sure he wrote a report, Doctor," she said with a smile. "Let him tell the story."


	8. Chapter 8

8.

**Author's NOTE: I keep writing about this mission of Lt. Kirk "twelve years ago". I'm not sure about the timeline. If anyone can help me out, I'd be grateful - I'd like to get things right. Also, Spock says in Chapter 1 that the Andarans left Kos "three million and four hundred thousand years ago". That is obviously somewhat exaggerated – myself, not Spock, is to blame. I am changing it to seventy-thousand years ago. Lastly, if anyone wants more on Spock on Andaras, I could possibly oblige. Let me know.**

Spock hoped his hosts had not noticed his struggle with the sudden surge of panic. It had taken him far too long to extricate himself from the demanding situation room and to commandeer a small room, a closet, really, where he could contact the ship in private. Straight away Uhura discreetly informed him that the Captain was in Sick Bay. This only confirmed the feeling of horror that had grabbed him in mid-sentence over an hour ago.

"Patch me through to Sick Bay, Lieutenant," he ordered, careful to keep his voice under control.

"McCoy here."

"Is the Captain alright, Doctor?"

"Spock! Yes! It was damn close, but he pulled through. How on earth-"

Alone in the room, Spock closed his eyes in relief.

"Thank you, Doctor."

There was a small silence.

"Well, don't thank _me_, Spock," said McCoy, gruff but obviously happy. "It was the Queen. Turns out Kosian women have a gift of healing. If she hadn't been here we'd be having a different conversation. But how are things on your end? I'm sure Jim'll want to know the moment he regains consciousness."

"As we surmised, the explosion was an act of terrorism. The Andarans are quite efficient in their investigations. They have an extensive intelligence network. And if ever the Federation looks into their membership, the issue of universal rights should be first on the agenda. But I believe we will come to the truth soon enough. Please tell the Captain that Probend Obk has been cooperating with the investigations, at some risk to his political future. But I believe the Council of Elders on Kos supports him, and the voices that speak against his policies in this matter are few."

"And who do you think did it, Spock," asked McCoy.

Had Spock been human, he would have rolled his eyes. As it was, he settled for raising an eyebrow.

"We do not yet have all the facts, Doctor. The Kosian situation seems pretty straightforward. They are one bloc held together by the tradition embodied in the Council of Elders. They are also a peaceloving people. Still, it is not inconceivable that some Kosian defector perpetrated this crime. The Andaran state of affairs is much more fragmented, and volatile, and I have yet to see my way clear. So, I must refrain from speculating on your question of 'who did it,' Doctor."

"Agh, Spo-ock!" moaned McCoy, and Spock almost cracked a smile, so great was his relief about Jim.

Still, he continued as coolly as he could. "I will send a more detailed report on an encoded channel soon." The Doctor had given him good news, it was only fitting that Spock humor him.

000000000000

With thumb and index finger McCoy rubbed his sore eyes. It was three hours since the Captain's crisis. Jim was out of the woods, miraculously – there was no other word for it. The Queen was still at his side. She had insisted to the Doctor that she needed neither rest nor sleep, but that _he_ _did_. So he had retired to his office, where he instantly recalled the report on Lieutenant James T. Kirk's reconnaissance mission to Kos/Andaras, twelve years ago.

The way he was composing it now was how he imagined retelling it to Spock when he checked back in –soon enough, he suspected.

Jim was one of a team of four sent to respond to the call of Kos. The team was led by Dr. Hildebrand, an expert on first encounters and the author of the report. Their contact with Kos was favorable from the outset. The Kosians were peaceful and forward looking. Communication and assessment were simplified by the fact that there was only that one united and authoritative body to deal with, the Council of Elders, which spoke through their Queen, and her consort, the King. This was the old King, Isha's now deceased husband.

Kirk and his team learned that this King, who had taken the name Kosilian the Fifth, was ninety Earth years old and had been ailing for over forty years now. This was surprising, since they determined that his affliction was, in any known, humanoid race in the universe, deadly and quick. The Kosians made no claim to a cure, but refrained from giving an explanation of the King's long life.

It wasn't long before Hildebrand and Kirk realized that something about the female population of Kos. As Kirk had mentioned, the women aged very slowly after they finished puberty. A seventy-year-old woman would still look like a twenty-year-old girl. Once they did start aging, however, the process seemed almost instant, for the only other female age group consisted of extremely old women.

These Elders ran the country, were revered by all, apparently without exception. Hildebrand reported they saw the twenty-five women of the Council only once, upon their arrival, they he learned from interviews that the number of their group varied as some of them passed away and others entered. And how did a woman enter the Council of Elders? In other words, how did they reach that state of aging? Again the Kosians respectfully declined to clarify.

There were many more discoveries and speculations in the long report, most of which McCoy skipped. Doctor Hildebrand proved to deserve his academic title in both verboseness and rather whimsical conjecture. Jim, on the other hand, seemed to have had other motivations for his interest in Kos.

The Queen, who was the effective spokesperson while her husband faded, had taken a liking to the young Lieutenant, and he to her. They spent as much time together as their duties permitted. Dr. Hildebrand seemed divided about this development. He valued the opportunity for research that such an intimate acquaintance provided. But he also expressed misgivings about the objectivity of said research and about possible breaches of protocol, as Isha and Kirk's friendship began to border on the romantic . McCoy deplored, however, that no details were forthcoming from the good Doctor. True, Kosian Queens took several consorts, but outworlders were something altogether different.

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Things took a bad turn when a shuttle ride to the outer reaches of the Kingdom went terribly amiss. On board were the Queen, Kirk, a Federation anthropologist named Silas, and one of the Queen's attendants. The shuttle controls failed, and it was all Kirk could do to get it to land without injuries, but on Andaran territory.

The Federation presence on the planet had never been a secret and the Andaran governing body had expressed an interest in meeting them. A conference had been arranged for later that month, so it came as a surprise to Kirk when he found their welcoming committee to be all but friendly.

Kirk knew, of course, that the Kosians and the Andarans were locked in a cold war. Kosians in general regarded Andarans as barbarians. Andarans saw Kosians as weak and pampered. Moreover, they held a grudge against them for exiling their ancestors seventy-thousand years ago, and for having withheld their technology in the more recent centuries. No matter how friendly and open their first encounter with Kos had turned out – to everyone's delight - it was always understood that the grounds for their presence was the Andaran situation.

Indeed, it was this core aspect of the mission that had necessitated the inclusion in the anthropological group of a tactical officer. Luckily, that officer had done his homework _and_ was on board the shuttle when it crashed. It was Jim Kirk.

In the resulting skirmish the anthropologist was killed, and the rest was taken prisoner. It was the first casualty under Kirk's direct, if impromptu command, and the report mentioned the Lieutenant's excessive feelings of guilt over Silas' death. But at the moment of crisis Kirk kept his head. It was thanks to his clear-headedness that no more incidents took place while they were being transported to the capital.

The prisoners soon learned that their unannounced arrival was being interpreted as an invasion. This was laughable, of course, but the political situation made the situation grave enough. Indeed, they learned that their timing had been terrible. The leaders who had extended the Andaran invitation to the Federation had just been overthrown in a bloody coup by an Andaran General named Far-_Ahn_. It was before this ruthless usurper that they were now being led.

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Kirk read the situation instantly. Apparently it was only a few hours into Far-_Ahn_'s new rule, but already the General was dealing with a crisis of his own. The military still held large factions that sided with the previous leaders, for a variety of reasons, and these were now mounting a counterattack. Far-_Ahn_ was condescending to meet his unexpected prisoners at this critical time only because he might get some advantage out of them.

As the situation seemed unsalvageable – Far-_Ahn_ becoming increasingly indignant in the face of the Kosian Queen's dignity – Kirk's trained eye spotted something out of place. With his usual bravado (McCoy thought), Kirk yelled a warning, broke free of his guard, and threw himself upon one of Far-_Ahn_'s officers, disarming him of a bomb that would have blown the entire building to kingdom come.

At this point the report raised all manner of considerations of the Prime Directive. McCoy skipped to the end, finding the Lieutenant absolved of any breach. Obviously this incident had done nothing to harm young Kirk's already stellar career.

Being, in his own manner, a man of honor, Far-_Ahn_ thanked Kirk for saving his life. Kirk was honest enough to point out what everyone knew, that it was his own life and that of the Queen that he had wanted to save. Far-_Ahn_ roared with laughter, then expressed his respect for Kirk's honesty. Kirk could ask anything of him. Of course the request was the immediate release of his party.

Far-_Ahn _was a man of his word. However, he explained that their release, especially of the Kosian Queen and her attendant, should in no way be construed as a thawing of Andaran relations with Kos. If anything, Far-_Ahn_ was more hostile toward Kos – and their friends, the Federation – than his predecessors had been.

In the report Kirk speculated that Far-_Ahn_'s hostility might have been dictated by the political circumstances. Most of Andaras was opposed to anything Kos. Far -_Ahn_ himself had taken advantage of the popular indignation at his predecessors' invitation of the Federation party to overthrow them. The more recent events, McCoy now thought, proved him right.

Kirk, the Queen and her attendant were returned to Kos, unharmed. But Andaras cut off all communication. Kos too fell back into its isolationist tendencies, both with regard to Andaras as to the Federation. Now that it was clear that the core mission was a failure, Starfleet ordered Kirk and his team to pull out.

McCoy wondered what kind of goodbyes were said between the Kosian Queen and the Federation Lieutenant. Unfortunately, the report left a lot of his questions about the nature of their relationship unanswered.

Not that Spock would ask, of course.

**Author's NOTE: This is as far as I got with the bare bones of the story when I started to publish. So I may take somewhat longer to post more chapters. The story is mostly writing itself, but do join me in keeping fingers crossed for a speedy delivery.**


	9. Chapter 9

9.

Kirk drifted into consciousness to find there the mother of all headaches. His mouth felt numb and thick, his eyelids were leaden. He couldn't move any part of his body, not that he was senseless to it, but that it felt – what would he call it – distanced, alienated? So it was with some difficulty that he made it known that he was conscious.

Someone took his hand – he did feel that - and it sure wasn't McCoy, nor Chris, perhaps?

He finally got his eyes to open and welcomed the chiseled, severe beauty of Isha's small face, the intense scrutiny of her blue eyes and, then, her smile.

"Jim? How are you feeling?"

Now that was McCoy, hovering over him as usual. The Doctor seemed genuinely concerned, though. Surely not about his physical state – how much more damaged could it get? Perhaps he was worried about brain damage. Kirk opened his mouth but found he couldn't utter a meaningful sound.

"He is fine, Doctor," Isha said when he had quit his moaning.

"Ye-es," McCoy grumbled, "that's exactly what he always says. 'I'm fine, Bones, I'm fine'!"

"_Thirsty_," Kirk croaked in retaliation.

McCoy huffed and went to get some water. Isha squeezed his hand.

"I'll leave you to the good Doctor now," she said. That mischievous smile.

"No!" he begged.

"A lot has happened, dear Captain and friend, and I must attend to my duties."

And so she left him.

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"Seriously, how are you feeling? Any pain?"

"Bones, I've never felt like this before," he said, glad that his speech was no longer slurred. "I've known agony, I've known top physical fitness, but never this. It's like my body has been… restructured. Like it is _strange_, and my brain still needs to get used, get _connected_ with it. What the hell happened?"

McCoy told him.

"_Isha _did that?" Kirk gasped.

"You mean to say you never suspected that Kosian women have this healing capacity?"

Kirk slowly shook his head.

"It was presented to us as a myth. We visited the hospital, Bones. All sections of the population were represented there."

"Perhaps some women have more of the gift than others," McCoy speculated.

"It does explain the old King's longevity in the face of his terrible disease. She must have great power," Kirk said.

He shuddered. Isha had not loved Kosilian, a man not of her own choosing, but elected by the Council of Elders. And she had been shackled to him and his illness for over forty years.

"She told me," McCoy was saying, "that she can only _suspend_ the disease, not cure it. But what she did for you, Jim… You're not better than you were before the crisis, unfortunately not, no. But she did _heal _you, in my definition of the word, at least. Well, in any case, perhaps this also has something to do with that strange gap, that lack of physically middle aged women."

Kirk frowned. It felt wrong to be discussing Isha like this, but he knew it was relevant to their situation, and that these questions were anyway part of the public record. Also, he knew he wasn't up to figuring it out on his own. His brain still felt like half of it was made of candy floss.

"When we studied the royal lists," he began, "we noticed that the Queens mostly outlived their husbands, taking consorts, but never remarrying. But for some Queens their reign ended the day the King died. We couldn't figure out what happened to these Queens, if they had died on that day, or had left, or where they went. No one would tell us, and it was not written in any text we could consult."

"Mmm. What happened after these Queens disappeared?"

"The same as when the Queens stayed, as Queen-Mothers: their daughters took the throne. The matrilineal bloodline is carefully guarded on Kos. All Queens have at least one daughter, either by their King or a consort. See, it's a true and pure matriline. It doesn't matter one bit who the father is, as long as the Queen has a daughter."

"But Isha-," the Doctor began.

"Yes," Kirk sighed, his heart heavy. "They are still waiting. She must bear a daughter, by _any _man, and this girl will be married to the Probend."

"'Girl'_? When_?" said McCoy, indignantly.

"_Bones_," Kirk pleaded. He sighed and broke the news anyway. "The day she is born. She will be crowned Queen and married ceremoniously to the Probend, making him King. And the bloodline and the kingdom will go on."

McCoy sniffed, disapproving.

"How is Spock doing," asked Kirk after a while. He was glad the question perked the Doctor right up, and he got Spock's report almost verbatim.

"So it may be that this dreadful act will result in some good yet," said Kirk. "Even if a Kosian did it - which I very much doubt – Obk will make sure to distance Kos from the act. There is not much crime on Kos, but what crime there is meets with the strictest justice. It is something both Obk and Far-_Ahn_ have in common: an unwavering sense of honor and justice. Of course they fill these in differently, but it was the one thing I got them to respect in one another."

"Well, " said McCoy," Spock was optimistic about making a breakthrough soon. You may be at the negotiating table yet, Captain!" said McCoy happily. Then he scowled, and muttered, "and kill yourself all over again!"

Kirk was about to deal the Doctor a riposte, but found he lacked the strength. Luckily the Doctor left it at that, and he could go back to sleep.

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"Spock, you're back! I take it that's good news?"

Spock leaned back on his heels, peering into the other room, but the Captain was out of sight in one of the private rooms of to the side.

"How is he?"

"You can stop _fainting_, Spock. He's doing well, sleeping at the moment."

"There is no need to wake him."

"Well, you can tell _me. _Who done it, huh?"

Spock sighed wearily. He hadn't had the time or opportunity to meditate on Andaras, and he had come straight to Sick Bay upon returning to the ship. Also, the strain of worrying about Jim had been too great.

"An Andaran faction, Doctor, 'done it.' We saw through their attempt to pass it off as a Kosian attack. They were apprehended and justice was unwavering and swift. I sensed that General Far-_Ahn_ wanted the case solved so he could back to the Enterprise and the negotiations. Hewas very open about his admiration for the Captain."

"I think I know why. Did you ever read up on Jim's first encounter with these people?"

"No, Doctor, I did not have the time."

"Well, I did. It makes for quite a story." And he told it as colorfully as he could.

"So Jim saved Far-_Ahn_'s life," McCoy concluded, "as well as Isha's, and he owed his life and Isha's to Far-_Ahn _in turn. It's a complex web, and Jim's been walking it like a tightrope in these negotiations."

"Indeed," said Spock. He was still processing all the story. He found it fascinating, though he would have appreciated it had the Doctor refrained from speculating – however respectfully, fondly even - on affairs of the heart. "Especially since the Captain had to contend with the new and unknown element of Probend Obk. Though I daresay that Obk has proven himself a wisely chosen leader."

"So-_ahem_-do you think Jim could save the peace, after all this?"

"I believe so, Doctor. In fact I believe that the chances of success are higher now than they were ever before."

"So… are negotiations still necessary?" McCoy asked hopefully.

Spock thought for a moment. He knew what McCoy was driving at – it was a wish he shared - but he could not humor him this time.

"I regret to inform you, Doctor, that the Captain's presence at the negotiations will be instrumental. These people have reached a tipping point. They could fall either way. They need only a little nudge toward peace, and only the Captain can give them that."

"I'm glad you think so, Mr. Spock."

They turned to find the Captain standing in the doorway, leaning against it a little.

Only once or twice in his life had Spock felt such happiness over the smile on that drawn face. Kirk was looking straight at him - how different from his painful avoidance of eye contact before. His smile was sad now and, Spock surmised, apologetic. He resolved to speak openly and honestly with the Captain as soon as they had a chance.

"I was wondering when you'd start playing the difficult patient!" McCoy grumbled as he went over to Kirk and helped him to a chair.

"Can you keep me together, Bones, for a couple more days? It is _crucial_ that I do this. Not just for Kos and Andaras, or for myself, but for Isha. You see, their plan is for her to conceive a daughter with the young Andaran, Kiran."

"A common Queen," Spock put in, instantly regretting that he had let his appreciation for such a simple and logical solution show through.

"Why you heartless, cold-blooded-_Vulcan_," spat McCoy.

"Doctor," interrupted Kirk. "Spock is right." Kirk was looking at Spock with that smile again. "Spock is right," he repeated, trailing off a bit as weariness was obviously overtaking him. "Even Isha agrees that it should be done. But if we can make it happen _without_ such… extreme measures" - he sighed – "she, and I, would be grateful."

"I guess we could make it work," said McCoy grudgingly. "And we'll start by having you close your eyes for a minute." He helped Kirk stand and started to lead him away. "God knows I shouldn't ask that you actually take some _rest_. I mean, who am _I_, a simple country doctor, to say…"

Spock watched them go. It was good to be home.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's note: I realize I could elaborate this story further. Spock's adventures on Andaras would be interesting to imagine. This last Chapter too needs more effort, and the whole story could do with a rewrite. But I feel oversaturated with this story and feel the need to move on. It might take me some time to get back to it, and I don't want to keep my readers hanging until then, so here goes. **

HIS LAST MISSION, TENTH AND FINAL CHAPTER

10.

_Déjà-vu_. Captain Kirk waited for a column of light to settle into substance. It was the Andaran Far-_Ahn_ first, this time. He leaped off the platform and gave Kirk such a thump on the shoulder that even Spock cringed inwardly as McCoy reacted more plainly. Kirk, however, whacked the General right back, and then they both stood to attention to welcome the next incoming passenger, the Kosian Probend Obk, who greeted them in a more ceremonious manner.

Kirk and Spock accompanied them to the Conference room, where the other members of the respective delegations were already present. They welcomed their leaders, and Kirk could see, from their glances and body language, that it was not Far-_Ahn _or Obk he had to worry about, but their constituents, represented in these delegates.

Kirk was only too aware of this shift in the negotiations, and he braced himself. Reconciling two leaders was nothing compared to reconciling six of their countrymen – five, really, since Isha stood behind him all the way – that is, the two billion _other_ inhabitants of their world.

But this time Obk and Far-_Ahn_ were on _his_ side, too, the side of peace. Several hours into the discussion he was relieved when the latter – by far the one with the most challenging task – took the reins. Soon it was up to Far-Ahn and Obk again, but the tone was different: they spoke directly to one another, with a mutual deference.

Kirk was beginning to relax in his chair when something caught his eye. He was furtively observing Kirian, - trying to analyze the horror he felt for the man - when he noticed a largish box hidden in one of the folds of the Andaran youth's black leather tunic. Just at that moment Kirian, unaware of the Captain's scrutiny, reached for it. Stealthily.

_Bomb!_

Even as the word burst from his lungs he dove for the Andaran. In the corner of his eye he saw a surge of movement away from him. Only Spock was moving towards him, from the other side of the table. With all his mind Kirk screamed _Away, Spock!_ Only the Andaran sat frozen. He even withdrew his hand, as if it had just touched fire. But a second later he reached in again, rising from his chair. It was the one good thing. Had he stayed sitting down, Kirk could not have tackled him. Now Kirk connected with the massive but unbalanced body and drove them both into the furthest corner of the room. Even in his panic and his pain he felt the pressing motion of the Andaran's finger against his own ribs.

Then his world exploded into a bright, searing horror. He cried out in rage against the pain, against his tormenters on Gemo XII, where _this _had been a constant, never tiring agony. But _this_, this tired quickly. He rolled away from the dead mass of blood and flesh that was Kirian and felt his life draining from the great gap in his chest and abdomen.

Spock was there first, then Isha, and the Doctor right behind her. He was falling away from them into a narrow pit. They were looking down at him from the rim, a circle of light rapidly growing smaller as he fell into darkness. Their bloodied faces….

_Bones_, his big brother, a mask of rage and helplessness. _Spock_, his friend, even _Spock _in his black eyes was beside himself. And Isha, the most beautiful and kind of women, Isha who…

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"Let me through!" McCoy yelled, pushing even the sturdiest Andaran out of his way to get to Kirk.

His heart was heavy with dread, his blood pounding in his ears. He had heard the dull _thud_ of the explosion even through the closed door. The scream.

He knew his worst fears had come true when he felt the floor slip under his boot. _Carnage_. Spock was on his knees next to Jim, his long, pale hands insanely trying to hold the gaping wound closed, the blood and guts from spilling out. The Doctor let despair take him and he fell to his knees in the growing pool of blood. Worse, _worse_ than two months ago. Nothing to be done now, nothing.

Jim was looking up at them, strangely peaceful, strangely smiling. The light in his eyes flared for a moment – _I love you_ – and then started dying.

"No, dammit, _no_!" McCoy yelled.

And then something happened. Isha gently took Spock's bloodied hands and moved them away from Jim's body. Then she put her own hands on the ravaged chest.

"What are you doing?" McCoy breathed.

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Spock instinctively leaned back when he saw the light coming from the Queen's hands. He pushed the Doctor back as well, registering only McCoy's gasp. But he never looked away from those small white hands and the light that crawled up her arms and invaded Jim's chest. Within seconds Jim's and Isha's bodies were enveloped in the light and the brightness melded them into one.

Then even Spock had to look away.

When he looked again, Jim was still lying on the ground, but he was _whole again_. His shredded, bloodied shirt hung on him and Spock saw that there was not a wound on him. Even his scars from Gemo XII were gone.

Jim had taken Isha's hands in his and was looking up at her, shock growing on his face. Spock followed his gaze to the Kosian Queen and could not keep back a sharp intake of breath.

She was old. Her hair was thin and white, her face aged almost beyond recognition. But her eyes were still the same, fierce and blue, bent upon the Captain.

"I have sacrificed, for you, James Kirk," she said, and even her voice was old, "just like I always knew I should."

"But," Jim said, sitting up – effortlessly, vigorously – "your youth, Isha, and no-no daughter!"

Isha smiled.

"My beauty has gone on for long enough. It was past its time. As for the bloodline-"

She sought out Far -_Ahn_ who was kneeling close by, next to a dumb-founded McCoy.

"May you realize, General, and all Andarans with you, that for this peace not only you have made the ultimate sacrifice. James Kirk forfeited his life, again. And the Kosian people gave up their Queen. Now I will enter the Council of Elders, and we will remake our government, together, I hope, with yours."

Far-_Ahn_ solemnly bent his head. "I swear," he whispered with awe, "my Queen."

Isha looked at Jim again, and touched his cheek. "Goodbye, my friend."

Then she held out her hand to Far-_Ahn_, who took it and reverently helped her up. They passed the Probend, who took Isha's other arm, and both men led away the bent, old woman, the last Queen of the Kosians.

"Jim?" McCoy asked. He was running his tricorder over the Captain. "Jim, it's gone. You're-you're perfectly healthy!"

"I know it, Bones," the Captain said, and he let the Doctor and his First Officer help him up. "I _feel _it."

Spock told himself to always remember this feeling, of Jim still leaning on his arm, seeking his support, just as Jim straightened himself, and let go, and stood again, the Captain of the Enterprise.


End file.
